


the ties that bind

by nedstark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, M/M, Miscarriage, Pre-Series, stannismonth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nedstark/pseuds/nedstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dragonstone family drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cressen is tending her when he arrives.

Selyse is bleary and dazed with so much milk of the poppy. Her eyes are unfocused and she blinks heavily when she sees him.

"Stannis," she sighs. "My Lord Stannis?"

"Who else would it be," Stannis mutters, and to Cressen says. "She is out of her right mind."

The old maester has the nerve to smile. "The pain would have been too much for even her to bear. It was a mercy, my lord."

Stannis nods tightly. The stench of blood is thick in the still air, he can almost taste it on his tongue. For once the wind fails to howl through the halls of Dragonstone. What he _does_ taste is the familiar choking bitter disappointment and resentment rising at the back of his throat. The resentment is not even particularly directed at his lady wife. He knows he should feel sympathy, and he does, in his way. Hers were the screams echoing in the halls, not his. Stannis is no stranger to death, and it is here in this room.

Selyse stares at him, head rolled to one side.

"Yes?" He asks through gritted teeth. It’s the pathetic best he can do.

"Don't look at me like that." Selyse pleads and tries to avert his gaze herself.

Stannis bats her unsteady hands away, taking firm hold of them when she continues and frowns at her. "I look at you as I always look at you."

He feels Selyse tangle her fingers with his, squeezing weakly before her touch goes slack.

"I know." Selyse sighs again and finally slips into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess this could fit into the family or relationship theme of stannismonth??
> 
> more to come!!


	2. Chapter 2

Selyse stormed past him into the nursery in a flurry of skirts, blinded by fury. She failed to notice him. Stannis followed in her wake but before he could speak Selyse rounded on him.

“Do you know what they say of our daughter? _Their own lord’s daughter!_ They will not hold her or touch her, let alone come anywhere near her," she fumed as tears leaked from her eyes, torn between outrage and devastation. "Not her wet nurse, not my maids. Not even my own family."

Stannis frowned. "Cressen assured us the disease would not spread--"

"They don't care what he says!" Selyse threw up her hands. Shireen started to wail. "They don't care! They refuse to breathe the same air as her. Cursed, they whisper. Tainted and deformed."

Selyse's voice broke and all at once the fight went out of her. She collapsed heavily into the chair he had seen her sit and watch their daughter from too many times to count. She pressed a hand to her eyes and wept.

He could only stand to listen to his wife and daughter cry for so long.

"We will find a new wet nurse, new maids. Your family will be dealt with in time but I will not forget their insolence or offence. I will not forget their treatment of our daughter." Stannis swore grimly, with firmness enough to make her glance up.

In that moment Selyse believed him with all her heart and tried in vain to compose herself. She knew it made him uncomfortable, yet her tears would not stop.

"She is just a baby, Stannis. She doesn't deserve this." She said through hitching breaths.

Stannis looked at her, jaw clenched. He gently thumbed the hard cracked grey of Shireen's cheek. She slept soundly on, as if she hadn't been woken at all.

Selyse rose to join his side and muffled another sob behind her hand.

“We won’t forget.” He repeated firmly to her.

Selyse echoed his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> greyscale's a bitch.


	3. Chapter 3

"I am your man, Your Grace. As ever I was." Davos had vowed to tell his king the truth and he would not shy away from it now, he couldn't. "Our years weren't a duty. They were an honour."

"Stop." Stannis commanded, holding up a hand and looking away.

Davos came to stand before him. "You do not believe me?"

"Worse. I do believe you." Stannis swept past him to the head of the vast table and drummed his fingers absently. "You have been apart from your family as long as you have been at my side. Your four eldest sons died in my service and yet you call these years the best of your life. _An honour_." He sneered, jaw hard as stone under his close cropped beard.

Davos felt his mouth tighten. His maimed hand reached for the pouch of fingerbones long lost to the river. "You are not one for cruelty, Your Grace. Honest and blunt, aye. But never cruel."

When Stannis failed to say anything more Davos bowed his head tersely, accepting it as his brusque dismissal. "Your Grace."

Stannis watched him leave from the corner of his eye. "Forgive me." He said under his breath to the empty room, remorse and regret like a vice around his iron heart.

There was no one to hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last minute pre-battle confession attempts or something


	4. Chapter 4

Even now Stannis can tell Shireen’s eyes are wet with tears but her cheeks are dry, both the flesh and the stone. She perches in her chair and folds her hands in her lap. Her legs dangle, feet not touching the ground. She waits for him for speak.

"What they say....does it hurt you?" Stannis finally asks.

Shireen shakes her head but still no tears fall. "I don't take it to heart, father. I know there are worse things to be called."

Deformed, tainted, cursed. The words from years past echo in his head.

She is so young and wise beyond her short years. In a blink of his eye she is a baby sleeping on his chest and a courteous young lady the next. Did she ever have time to be a child? He has missed so much of it. Regret stirs in his chest.

"Yes," Stannis agrees, nodding. "There _are_ worse things. But that doesn't mean to say they hurt you less. There is still something. What is it?"

Shireen bites her lip, a habit he's seen her mother do countless times. _If only Selyse were here now_ , he thought ruefully. _She would know how to handle this, how to speak to and comfort her own daughter_.

He softens his voice to what he hopes is gentle encouragement. "You may tell me, Shireen. It's okay."

She silently stares down at her small folded hands. He feels helpless.

"When you were a baby," he starts, and she peeks up at him, surprised and curious all at once. "Your mother said you had my iron. Iron lungs perhaps, but I believed her. I _do_ believe her. From the moment you were born, you survived. Even after the greyscale, you survived and you thrived and you were hardly out of your crib. You have shown more strength than many and most.”

On impulse Stannis reaches over and covers Shireen’s clasped hands with one of his own.

“Do not let them dictate your worth, Shireen. You owe them nothing, and until the day you do, hold your head high. There is no shame in being different. Those are the words my mother often told me.”

Shireen’s eyes were bright with wonder this time. “She did?”

Stannis nods and removes his hand from atop Shireen’s own. “And she would have told you much the same were she still alive. I regret she never lived to meet you.” He said, surprising himself but found he truly meant it.

Shireen blinks and closes her parted mouth. “I will try to remember your words, father. And grandmother’s. I promise.” She stood and smoothed the creases of her dress and curtseyed. "Goodnight, father."

“Sleep well.” Stannis told her, for what he knew was likely the first time in her life. He watched the door to her rooms close behind her and caught the beaming smile on her face before it shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha references to my own [fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4318209)


	5. Chapter 5

At the last moment, Stannis swiftly turned his head to the side. Davos' nose brushed the hollow length of his cheek but they stayed there, faces so close and yet never close enough, neither making to move away. Neither _wanting_ to move away.

"We cannot," Stannis said raggedly, rigid with shame and want. "You are not that man and you will not become that man because of me or _for_ me. Neither will I." Stannis nodded almost to himself and swallowed heavily, throat bobbing under his stubbly skin. "We have vows to keep and we both have our duty."

"And what of our duty to each other?" Davos dared to ask, breath warming Stannis' neck.

Stannis inhaled sharply, but there was no fight in him this night. If anything he looked bone weary. The guilt was almost suffocating. Stannis leant his forehead against his Onion Knight's and squeezed his eyes shut. "It is because of that duty that we cannot do this. It must always be this way, but know you are not alone in this torment, my Lord Hand. I promise you." His voice was raw and Davos almost pitched forward when Stannis abruptly stood and moved away. He hesitated before taking Davos' maimed hand in his own and raised it to his chest, over his heart. "Wants do not enter into it. They _cannot_."

It was not the first time Davos had heard that, and it would not be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have about a million and one things i've gotta do this week so of course i'm ignoring all my responsibilities and updating for the first time in months :^)
> 
> i'm also super low on inspiration so any prompts or ideas are more than welcome and totally appreciated!!


	6. Chapter 6

She dreams of it sometimes. Her future. The future of her family. _Shireen's_ future.

She has not yet given up hope for a son, but in her dreams it is her daughter who sits the Iron Throne and beside her a faceless husband who loves her for her gentleness and good heart, her quick mind, the endless blue of her eyes, as deep as oceans. Surrounded by children of her own and a kingdom who adore her for everything she is and isn't.

At the very least Shireen's husband is courteous to her and respects her, and that is enough. It was enough for Selyse, though in her heart of hearts she always ached for more, always wondered _what if?_

And though it is rightfully theirs, for now it is still just that, still just a dream. The path to victory is long and winding and vast, fraught with perils and uncertainty. Battles are brewing and tensions are building. Fate hangs in the balance and the howling, unforgiving winds of winter will soon be upon them, the cold creeping ever closer.

Selyse shudders and pulls her furs around her. She stares hard at the flickering flames of the fire in the hearth and with wholehearted fervour sends a prayer to the Lord of Light.

Her daughter will rule and Shireen will be a better queen than she herself ever was, whether she survives to see it or not.


	7. Chapter 7

"Who have we here?" Maester Aemon called softly, his clouded eyes searching the dark of the library.

Shireen gasped and whirled but settled when she saw who was hunched in the chair at the ancient table.

"I did not mean to disturb you, Maester." Shireen said quietly.

"And you have not. What is your name, child?"

"Princess Shireen of the house Baratheon." She recited, standing straighter.

"A princess in my library! You must forgive this old man if he cannot bow. His withered knees are not what they used to be."

Shireen muffled a giggle behind her hand. Maester Aemon's heart warmed at the sound. 

He ran trembling fingers along the spines on the shelves at hand. "How does my library compare to the one at your home?"

"Oh it is wonderful! I am quite used to the draft but I could spend hours here and it surely would not be enough."

"You are a sweet child. I share your love of books, I always have. Yet my sight has failed me for more years than I can recall."

"I could read to you if you like?" Shireen suggested shyly.

Maester Aemon's wrinkled face broke into a smile. "Then what are you waiting for, little princess? What adventure will you take us on this day?"

*

Hours later, the heavy oaken doors to the library thudded shut. Sam, dusted with snow, entered carrying a flaming torch. He was accompanied by the Queen and three of her guards.

"Shireen?" Selyse called, squinting through the darkness.

"Yes, mother?"

"Come now, Shireen. It is far past your bed hour." Selyse held out her hand and beckoned her daughter closer.

"I will, mother. Just one moment." Shireen neatly piled the books sprawled around their feet.

"Forgive me, your grace." Maester Aemon said. "Time slips away like sand when between the pages of a good book. I hope your daughter's presence was not too sorely missed."

"There is nothing to forgive, Maester." _Your company is much preferred to that of a wildling whore_ , Selyse thought to herself. "But she needs her rest. The hour grows ever later."

"Indeed it does. Samwell, help me to my feet, there's a good lad. Thank you again, Princess."

"I can continue tomorrow," Shireen whispered to him as she gathered her cloak. "Good night, Uncle Maester." Shireen reached up on her tiptoes to peck his wrinkled cheek and took her place at her mother's side.

*

"That was a very kind thing you did, Shireen." Selyse told her as she tucked her daughter in. "Your father would be proud of you. I must make sure I tell him, next I see him."

Shireen beamed, a faint blush to her cheek. "It was no trouble, mother. I was happy to do it."

"Are you very lonely here, Shireen?"

Shireen thought about it. "No. It is much the same as Dragonstone, I think. But I still have you, and Devan, and Patches. And now I have Jon and Sam and Gilly and Maester Aemon too!"

Selyse kissed her cheek and smoothed back her dark hair. "Of course you do, my love. Sleep well, I am only in the other room."

"Good night, mother." Shireen yawned, tired eyes already drooping shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the only time i’m super super into targaryens is when it comes to their blood relation with baratheons lmao)


End file.
